The Cherubs Always Know Best
by The Grand T00blets
Summary: What happens when a mysterious and strange Valentine turns up for Hermione and mixes with the mischief of the cherubs (and a certain blonde Ravenclaw)? Oh, poor Harry. [One-shot]


Title: The Cherubs Always Know Best

Authors: The Grand T00blets (Amethyst and Gracie)

E-mail: thegrandt00blets at yahoo dot com

Rating: PG

Spoilers: Books 1-5

Summary: What happens when a mysterious and strange Valentine turns up for Hermione and mixes with the mischief of the cherubs (and a certain blonde Ravenclaw)? Oh, poor Harry. One-shot

Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't ours, we're well aware and very sad, we're making no money off of this, we're not trying to steal any rights…so please don't sue us, okay?

Author's note:

Gracie:

Bounces and waves to all

Hullo, all. This is _historic_ for Amethyst and I, for it is our first work put under a joint name. And if you like what you read here, you'd _love_ our other works, all listed under Amethyst's individual name, Amethyst Jackson. Look out especially for Mating Season; that's one I myself am particularly proud of. Go, have a look, enjoy the semi-late Valentine's lurve, and leave a pumpkiny review. All flames will be used to bake pumpkin pies.

Amethyst:

What she said.

**The Cherubs Always Know Best**

Hermione stared in wonder at the site before her. Standing at her feet was possibly the largest Valentine she had ever seen - and it was for her. Who could it be from? Hermione wouldn't – couldn't – dare to hope that it was from the boy she wanted it to be from – he was much too preoccupied to be thinking about girls, especially girls like _her_ because he liked petite, pretty types with dark hair and soulful eyes. However, she wanted to know who it was from immediately, both to satisfy her curiosity and to get over the disappointment of having a boy like her whose feelings she could never return.

Her eyes shifted from the rather huge pink-colored pumpkin in front of her, to the dreamy-eyed – and smug looking? – messenger standing next to it.

"Isn't it romantic?" sighed Luna. "It's so unique."

Hermione blinked. "Yes, it's...indeed...um...is there a card anywhere?"

Since Luna didn't blink – _ever_ – she tilted her head in what Hermione assumed was mild confusion. "Card? No, he didn't give me a card. But, you know, a cherub might have taken it. They need all the paper they can get...did you know there's a massive confetti shortage this year?"

Hermione somehow restrained herself from rolling her eyes. "Well, um, do you think you could tell me who sent it, Luna?"

Luna began looking as smug as Hermione had ever seen her, and also oddly excited. It made her protuberant eyes go even wider, which disturbed Hermione a little more than she would admit. "No. But you can guess if you'd like."

Hermione glared suspiciously at her. "And if I guess correctly, you'll tell me?"

Hermione was getting the feeling that Luna and Moaning Myrtle would make lovely pen-pals, because Hermione's annoyance and suspicion seemed to heighten Luna's pleasure with the situation. "Oh, no," she shook her blonde head. "Ronald made me promise not to tell who it was from."

Hermione's eyes widened until she caught them doing so and stopped the nonsense, not wanting to resemble the starry-eyed Ravenclaw. "Luna – Ron didn't send it, did he? ...Wait, forget I asked. Ron's not creative enough to send a pumpkin - unless you gave him the idea. You didn't, did you?"

Luna just kept on looking at her, a vague (but hugely giddy) grin spreading across her slightly dotty face. "I've told you, I cannot tell. But keep guessing. It is entertaining." Hermione looked on with wide eyes as Luna made herself comfortable on the edge of the huge pumpkin, and looked expectantly up at her.

Hermione huffed, exasperated. How on earth was she supposed to determine who, out of all the boys in Hogwarts, would be insane enough to send her a Valentine – and in the form of a pumpkin, no less? "What's the point in me guessing if you're not going to tell me anything?"

She paused, an idea forming in her mind. A very Slytherin-like smirk formed on her lips. "No...I'll go to a more helpful source." And with that, she stormed out of the common room, wand in hand, in search of a certain redhead.

Luna giggled rather maniacally, and for a moment it would seem that it was to an empty room, until there were some tentative footsteps and Ron's ginger head poked around the side of the boy's stairwell.

"Did you give it to her?" he asked, coming down the steps completely when he saw Luna alone.

She stopped laughing long enough to grin at him, never once blinking. "Yes. The cherubs will be so pleased."

* * *

Hermione stormed the castle for at least an hour before she gave up her search for the missing redhead and returned to the Gryffindor common room. When she entered, a certain Harry Potter saw her and froze like a deer in the brightest headlights ever. Hermione smirked once more. Information at last.

"Harry," Hermione said, as gently and coaxingly as possible, "Is there something you want to tell me about that pumpkin?"

Harry's eyebrows shot up into his bangs. "P-pumpkin? What pumpkin? Oh, you mean that pumpkin? No, no, I know absolutely nothing!" Harry squeaked, all the while backing up toward the staircase - until he accidentally began to walk up the girls' staircase and came tumbling back down.

Hermione looked on with a very amused expression, but her eyes quickly darted to the boys' staircase, where she distinctly heard both girlish and rather masculine giggling. ("I was _not _giggling!" Ron would later argue.) Her attention was quickly brought back to the boy rubbing his backside at the bottom of the staircase when she saw his vivid green eyes dart to the portrait hole.

His behavior was very strange indeed for someone merely trying to cover for someone else. Could _he_ have sent the pumpkin? No, that was silly, he wouldn't have. Harry would never, ever think of her that way, and the pumpkin was probably part of some big conspiracy to set her up with a Ravenclaw so that she'd babble to him instead of Harry and Ron. At that thought, Hermione's annoyance returned full force, and she turned on Harry again, who was still shooting the exit frequent glances.

"Don't even think about it, Potter," Hermione snapped, as he began to get up in a catlike fashion, as if about to dart between her legs for the portrait hole. She trained her wand on him. "I've had enough. You know something, I know it, and you're not leaving until you give me something to go on."

Harry whimpered. "Please don't hurt me."

Hermione just sniffed a little, and resolutely put her freckled nose in the air as she began to stalk over to him. "I promise nothing. Now, you know who sent me that...I suppose we could call it a Valentine...don't you?"

Harry blinked at her, rooted to his spot as he watched her approach. "I – wha – you didn't read the card?"

Hermione nearly screamed in frustration. "I asked Luna if there was a card, but she said, no, there was none, and that I had to GUESS, and I don't like playing GAMES! What did the bloody card say!"

Both Harry and Hermione were abruptly distracted for a moment after Hermione's last word, when something was yelled from the boy's staircase, ("The cherubs made me dooogh iphhh...!"), followed by a girlish, high-pitched yell. ("She _bit_ me!" Ron would later whine, holding up a calloused thumb which did indeed have small teeth marks in the flesh.)

Once Hermione returned her attention to the task at hand, she was only further incensed. She looked back to where Harry had been standing moments before, but it was obvious that he had recovered before she had – not that it had done him much good. All he had managed to do was try to grope his way up the stone slide that used to be the girls' staircase.

Hermione trained her wand on him again. "Back to business, Harry – this card? What did it say?"

Harry gulped. "Well, it – it said that – er – somebody…loves you. And he wanted to tell you in a way that hopefully wouldn't make you angry with him because he loves you too much to be able to bear you never speaking to him again and he really hopes you'll feel the same way but if you don't it's no pressure because he can be content just having you in his life as a friend and –"

Unable to bear the hope that he could have sent the Valentine any longer, Hermione interrupted his rambling with a curt, "Who signed the bloody card, Harry?"

Through all of this, Harry refused to give up his resolve to climb the once-was staircase. It was obviously becoming harder to do, because as he began speaking again, his sentences kept getting shorter and shorter, broken by some panting. "...Well...I'm...not...so…sure…that…you…wanna...know –"

Hermione gave a very, very loud shriek of frustration, stomping her feet on the ground (she was too distracted with her fit of rage to notice Crookshanks, who'd been hiding out under the couch looking on with an oddly Cheshire-cat grin, spook at the loud noise and go streaking up the boy's stairwell. "_Bloody cat!_" Ron would later continue to whine. "It scared the living daylights out of…ahem…Luna."). With a quick flick of her wand, Hermione had Harry floating in mid-air, completely incapable of movement, before Harry was even able to slide down the stone slope from pure exhaustion.

"Harry James Potter, if you don't tell me who sent that Valentine RIGHT NOW I'm going to Wingardium Leviosa you right out a bloody WINDOW!"

Again, Harry whimpered. "All right, all right, it was – it was me!" he cried dramatically, immediately shifting from terrified to sheepish. "Don't hate me," he added pleadingly.

Hermione almost dropped him hard on his poor, abused little bum in shock. No, Harry – it was impossible. Hermione had frizzy, light brown hair and freckles and a curvier figure than she would have liked – how could he possibly like her in favor of Cho or Parvati or Lavender?

"You're lying."

"I am not!" Harry said indignantly as Hermione gently lowered him. "I colored the bloody pumpkin pink and I spent _two hours_ writing that card and then I gave it to Ron to deliver, and he gave it to Luna, and evidently, they botched it all up," he sighed. "But it's true. I…I'm…I'm in love with you."

Hermione stared at him, feeling her heart constrict painfully at the look of despair on his face. Harry honestly, truly loved her – _her_! Mousy, plain Hermione Granger – and he was hurting because he thought she wouldn't want to hear it. How could he ever think she'd hate him for this? No, it would be impossible for her to hate him – for _anything_ – and she knew, in the deepest recesses of her heart and mind, that she loved him in return.

Slowly, tentatively, she approached the place where he sat on the floor and knelt before him, fighting tears. "Harry…oh, Harry, that's…no one's ever…you're so…I don't understand why you'd choose a pumpkin, but…oh, Harry!" She gave up, knowing she'd never find the proper words to explain how she felt at that moment, and settled for a more direct approach – she threw her arms around him and proceeded to kiss every inch of his adorably confused face.

If Harry had any sort of confusion or puzzlement over what had just happened to him, he'd gotten over it in record time. For the good part of the next ten minutes, they were both thoroughly distracted with one another, and they only moved when Hermione shifted her weight slightly to a more comfortable position, with her back resting against the giant pink pumpkin that found its way into their proximity, and Harry leaning over her.

These distractions were lucky for Ron and Luna, who were able to finally make their way down the steps that led to the boys' dorms, Crookshanks in Luna's arms. They stood at the foot of the stairs, smiling (both in a very smug fashion) at the couple who were completely oblivious to their existence. It was only after several minutes of this blatant spying that something woke Ron from the little trance that was Harry and Hermione's snogging session – a light layering of pink confetti began to fall quietly over the couples' heads in large clumps (later he would look at the 'confetti' more carefully and notice that there were black scribbles on each that were suspiciously similar to Harry's handwriting).

He glanced down to Luna for confirmation of the paper shower the two brunettes were getting, when he noticed that she, too, had a few light-pink specks littering her hair and shoulders, and also Crookshanks fur. Putting a hand to his ginger head, he was surprised to see the same colored dots falling to the ground from his fingers and hair.

When he looked back down to the shorter girl next to him, he noticed that both she and the cat in her arms were grinning at something outside of the now open window, neither one of them blinking. "Oh yes," Luna sighed, freeing one of her small hands to settle on the lower of Ron's back. "The cherubs always know best."

The End


End file.
